


Sapphire Bullets (Bullets Of Pure Love)

by livtontea



Series: Equilibrium [1]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Break Up, But at what cost?, Character Death, Episode: s01e04 Man on the Moon, Eudora Patch is Alive, F/M, Fluff, Not Beta Read, Sorry Not Sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-06
Updated: 2019-07-06
Packaged: 2020-06-23 08:11:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19695868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/livtontea/pseuds/livtontea
Summary: “No. You can’t do this. You can’t do this to me, you fucking asshole!”But Diego’s eyes have gone glassy and blank, and his chest isn’t moving. Eudora’s hands slip off Diego’s body and hang limply at her sides.





	Sapphire Bullets (Bullets Of Pure Love)

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from [here.](https://youtu.be/MnYKfrgN76Y)
> 
> Just your basic Eudora Lives AU but... with a twist. 
> 
> You can kind of tell where I got lazy with my writing but whatever I think I did an okay job on this.

Eudora and Diego lay in bed, limbs tangled together and soft voices mingling. Diego’s hand is resting on the small of her back, the weight of it shifting with her breathing. Eudora’s fingers are running through his hair, which hasn’t been cut in a while, letting her rearrange separate locks on his head.

Their free hands are really not. Diego’s hand is on her back and Eudora’s is in his hair, and she’s holding his hand. Or maybe Diego is holding hers. It doesn’t matter. Their legs are tangled, and their hands are intertwined, and they’re laying in bed together, talking about nothing and everything at once.

Diego laughs, and Eudora grins. When Diego laughs, all of the roughness in his voice fades away. His face smoothes over, the angry creases that so often grace his visage pulling into wrinkles of mirth.

Eudora loves him. She needs to make sure he knows that. So she tells him.

“I love you,” she breathes. “You know that, right?”

Diego’s eyes twinkle. “Yeah. I love you too.”

“Good,” declares Eudora, her voice quiet but full of gentle determination. “You need to know that I love you. I always will.” Diego laughs again, and Eudora closes her eyes in content.

Deep inside, she knows that this could be considered an empty promise. They could drift apart, something could happen, she could fall out of love. There’s no way for her to know she’ll always love Diego. But somehow, she does. She knows deep inside herself, much deeper than anybody could see, that she will always love Diego Hargreeves. And if he leaves, well.

Who’s to say Eudora can’t love him anyway?

“Eudora,” breathes Diego.

“Mm?” She opens her eyes and looks up into his face, tracing his features with her gaze. “What is it?”

“Nothing. I just wanted to say your name.”

Eudora laughs, breathy and light. She reaches up, resting her forehead on his trapezius. “You sap,” she mumbles against Diego’s skin. His chest and throat tremble with the vibrations of his laughter.

“Says you. You just told me you’ll always love me.”

“That’s not sappiness. That’s a fact.”

Diego laughs again. He has been doing that more often lately, laughing. It’s wonderful. He’s wonderful.

Eudora stretches her neck and muffles his warm laughter with a kiss. His lips press against hers, kissing her back. The hand that was resting on her back crawls up to bury itself in her hair. Her hand, the one previously running through Diego’s hair, wraps around the back of his neck, pulling him close.

They lay in bed, tangled together, exchanging laughter and kisses. Fleetingly, Eudora thinks that there’s nowhere else she’d rather be.

  
The water is dripping out of the sink. Fat droplets of it slowly seeping out of the faucet, landing with a quiet _plink_ in the basin. Eudora reaches out and twists the knob. The water is cut off, one last droplet swirling down the drain.

Eudora sighs. She looks up and meets her reflection’s eyes in the mirror. Her eyes are red.

Eudora squeezes them shut. She doesn’t want to look at anything right now. She just wants to curl up into a ball and let the tears flow. She sighs again, heavier this time.

It’s not like she has anything to do.

Eudora walks to her bedroom, not bothering to close the bathroom and bedroom doors behind her. She falls onto the bouncy mattress, and rolls to her side, drawing her knees up to her chest and wrapping her arms around them.

She hums. A short, simple sound without meaning.

Her chest aches. Another sigh.

The room is cold. Eudora wants to get up and throw on a sweater, but she finds that her limbs are too heavy. Oh well. Not like she’s going to die.

“Ha,” she laughs without any humor. “Feels like it.”

Everything just hurts. Inside and out.

Eudora falls asleep.

When she wakes a couple of hours later, she’s shivering.

“Shit.”

Looks like the cold really hit it off without her. Eudora stretches out her limbs one by one, letting the blood flow back into them. Pins and needles start pricking just under her skin.

Painstakingly slow, she sits. Her hands dart to rub at her arms, trying to warm them up. She gets out - or crawls out - of bed, stumbling over to the closet. Her icy fingers run through shirts and sweaters, trying to find something to wear.

They stop at a black sweater.

It’s a plain black hoodie with worn seams and fraying strings. There’s nothing special about it. It’s a plain black hoodie among millions of plain black hoodies. And yet…

Eudora sighs. Suddenly her eyes feel moist and heavy. She really should have given this back. She still can. It would be the right thing to do, wouldn’t it? She forgot to give it back with the other stuff, so she should give it back now.

The hoodie is big. The inside is just slightly fuzzy, perfect for the cold. It was big on him and it’s huge on her. It would be selfish not to give it back.

Eudora lifts the hoodie out of the closet. She can allow herself to be selfish this one time, can’t she? She slides the hoodie off the hanger and wriggles into it.

It reaches just above her knees, swathing her in soft fabric.

“Mm.” A hum.

She walks back to the bed, falling into it. The proper way, this time, crawling under the covers and wrapping her blanket around her. She presses her nose into the hoodie.

Smells like ex-boyfriend.

“I’m acting like a teenager,” Eudora murmurs into the fabric of the hoodie. “It’s like I’m fifteen going through my first breakup.”

She shuts her eyes. “I need to stop.”

Eudora doesn’t get out of bed for the rest of the day. Most of the time she’s sleeping. Once or twice she wakes up with tear tracks on her face and takes some time to cry. Good thing it’s Sunday.

  
“Hey, Patch.” Eudora looks up from her stack of paperwork. Beaman is approaching her, disposable paper cup in hand. “What?”

“Oh, not much.” He stops at her desk, placing the still warm cup onto the wood. “For you.”

Eudora raises an eyebrow. “Oh?”

Beaman snorts. “Not from me. You wish you were that lucky. It’s from somebody else.”

Eudora cautiously takes a sip of what is revealed to be her usual coffee order. Oh. Should have been obvious.

“Diego,” she sighs.

Beaman nods. “The one and only.”

Eudora presses her forehead against the cool wood of her desk, wishing for death. Or sleep. Both sound good at the moment.

“Hey, don’t go all sad on me,” says Beaman. “It’s free coffee. How could you be upset about that?”

Eudora groans. He’s got a point. “You’re right,” she begrudgingly admits.

Beaman grins. “Of course. Well, I’ll be off now. Crime never waits, and all that.”

“M’kay,” Eudora says without moving her head. “Seeya.”

Once Beaman leaves, Eudora finishes her coffee, not bothering to take her time with it. She needs as much caffeine in her system as possible right now.

She flips the cup upside down, ready to drop it in the trash when she sees it.

It’s a clearly rushed scribble of a smiley face, looking like it was drawn after the cup had been filled. It looks like sharpie. Eudora sighs, and looks at it with sad eyes for a bit longer.

For some reason, she takes a quick picture of it before leaving it in the garbage.

  
There are some nights when Eudora comes home, a smile on her lips and the beginnings of “I’m home” on her tongue, ready to talk about her day. And then she’s slapped in the face with the realization that there’s nobody there to greet her.

Sometimes she sets out two mugs of tea at night or two cups of coffee in the morning, and sometimes there’s an extra set of silverware on the table when she’s eating.

She doesn’t like it. Not at all. But there are nights when she’s too tired to convince herself that she’s moved on and everything is _fine_ and she doesn’t miss him, and her mind always takes her back to the promise she made that night. It seems so long ago.

She’d kissed him and laughed with him and loved him and promised. She promised she would always love him.

There are nights when Eudora Patch silently berates herself for allowing herself to keep that promise.

Other nights Eudora pulls out her phone and scrolls through all of the pictures. Pictures of her and Diego, smiling at the camera. Pictures of his placid face, asleep. Pictures of the scribbles on the bottoms of her coffee cups.

It’s not like she’s in denial. It’s over. They’re over. Diego’s moved on.

She just sometimes wishes she could love Diego Hargreeves and his stupid, beautiful face a little less.

  
Eudora quietly grumbles in impatience, checking the time again. She briefly debates on just giving up. Because she could. She could go into the hotel right now. She could go in and just do this herself, because Diego’s insufferable ass said he would be here half an hour ago.

But no. A promise is a promise. And Eudora Patch, no matter how much she sometimes hates herself for it, always does her best to keep her promises.

Fuck Diego. Fuck him and his warm smile.

Eudora pulls out her phone and dials Diego’s number. When he picks up, she cuts straight to the point.

“If you’re not here in five minutes, I’m going in without you.”

 _“Don’t do that,”_ Diego’s voice crackles with static. “ _I’m just around the corner, I’ll be there in three minutes, tops.”_

“Great. If you aren’t, I’m going in without you.”

 _“So you’ve said.”_ She can hear his grin through the phone. _“Calm down, Eudora. I’m almost there.”_

“Don’t call me that,” snaps Eudora, and then the line disconnects and she’s left in silence. She rolls her eyes as she stuffs her phone back into her pocket. Asshole.

When Diego pulls up, Eudora is almost ready to just grab him and go. Almost.

Diego and his stupid outfit walk up to her, knife in hand. “Thanks for waiting. You ready?”

“I was ready half an hour ago,” grumbles Eudora. “Come on.”

She takes him by the hand, pulling him into the building, pointedly ignoring the warmth and familiarity of his touch. She sounds like a teenager. Again. Fuck.

They’re just passing by another hallway of doors when Eudora thinks she hears something. She freezes. Of course, she could be wrong. It could just be her mind playing tricks on her. But when somebody’s well-being or even _life_ is on the line, risks are taken.

 _Thud_.

Diego reaches out and taps her shoulder. She turns around. He nods his head to the door they just passed. Walking closer to it, she can hear the noise again.

 _Thud_.

Eudora looks around, trying to find something to open the door with. Diego taps her shoulder again and waves a ring of keys.

 _“Did you steal that?”_ mouths Eudora. He shrugs, a smirk on his face.

 _“No,”_ he mouths back. _“The cleaning lady gave them to me.”_

Eudora rolls her eyes. Whatever, they have the keys. She plucks them out of Diego’s hand, ignoring his faux-offense, and slides the right one into the lock.

She pushes open the door, quietly, quietly.

 _THUD_.

A bloodied and gagged man in a bath towel is tied to a chair. He’s hitting his head on the table he’s next to. When he looks up to meet her eyes, he looks like he could cry in relief.

“Klaus?” Diego blurts, still hushed.

Eudora moves to the man – Klaus – and tries to untie him. When the rope proves to be too tight for her blunt fingernails to undo, she reaches her hand behind her. Diego thankfully understands and places a knife into her open palm. She slices Klaus free.

“Bathroom,” gasps Klaus as soon as the gag is gone. “In the bathroom.”

“The bathroom?” repeats Diego.

Klaus nods frantically, rubbing his red wrists. Eudora clenches her jaw and pushes Klaus behind her. She pulls out her gun and cocks it, prepared to shoot. She points in at the bathroom door.

“Come out,” she barks. “Out of the bathroom, weapons on the ground, hands behind your head.”

When nothing happens, she growls, “Weapons on the ground. Now.”

A gun is thrown out onto the floor in front of the bathroom. Good.

“Now get out. Hands behind your head, asshole.”

A round man in suspenders steps out of the bathroom, hands lifted up. “Okay, just don’t shoot.”

Eudora’s breathing is heavy as she watches the man step further away from the bathroom door. There’s a moment of tense silence as her finger trembles over the trigger, and then there’s a loud bang and she’s being shoved onto the ground.

She doesn’t register what happens for a moment. She just shoots. She ducks and rolls and tries not to get hit.

And then it’s over. She doesn’t have any holes in her which is almost unbelievable.

But Klaus is gone. And Diego is on the ground with a pool of red spreading out under him.

“Diego?”

Diego doesn’t move. The amount of liquid is still growing.

“Diego.”

When Diego still doesn’t respond, Eudora crawls over to where he’s laying and turns him over, face up. His skin is pale, nearly white, and clammy, and his breaths are so short and shallow she can barely tell he’s breathing at all.

The dark bloodstain on his chest is spreading.

“Diego. Diego, stay with me.”

Diego’s gasps of breath keep getting farther and farther apart. Eudora presses her hands against his chest, trying to stop the bleeding, but it’s no use. She’s too late.

“Hey…” Diego coughs. “You… know I l-love you, ri-right?”

Eudora’s world freezes.

“Diego…”

Diego’s fingers weakly scrape against Eudora’s hands, as if he’s trying to squeeze them in reassurance. “I… I need you t-to know,” he chokes out, “that I love… you. I always- always will.”

“No. You can’t do this. You can’t do this to me, you fucking asshole!”

But Diego’s eyes have gone glassy and blank, and his chest isn’t moving. Eudora’s hands slip off Diego’s body and hang limply at her sides.

“No…”

That night, Diego Hargreeves dies. He dies and Eudora Patch kneels over his body, tears streaming down her face.

  
The next day she’s in a taxi. Then she’s in the Hargreeves Mansion. Then she’s talking to the other siblings.

Then Vanya Hargreeves is shouting. Everybody’s shouting. There’s crying. Shouting and crying and Eudora feels lost.

End of the world. It really feels like it already happened. It happened for her when Diego was gone and it happened again when Diego’s body stopped moving. He told her he loved her. He told her that he would love her and that he always will.

But he won’t, because he’s gone.

“I want to help you,” Eudora realizes she is saying. “I want to help you stop the Apocalypse.”

  
The next days pass in a blur. She goes places. Panics. Cries. Vanya is shouting. More shouting. Her shouting is muffled but Eudora can still see her tear-streaked face.

And then explosions.

Then they’re running down to the theater and then Vanya’s suit is white and she’s playing violin and everything is trembling and there’s more shooting and guns and--

Blue tentacles rip four people apart. Something whizzes past Eudora’s ear. She turns and Diego’s there, throwing knives left and right. Their eyes meet. He’s glowing blue. Diego winks at her.

Then a gunshot. Singular. A beam of energy so bright Eudora’s eyes feel like they’re burning.

Then everything collapses. The moon starts falling.

Five is screaming. They all grab onto each other. Eudora’s holding hands with two siblings and she feels – and maybe she’s imagining it, maybe it’s just her mind toying with her – she feels a warm hand on her shoulder.

Eudora Patch and the Hargreeves siblings, all seven of them, disappear from April first, twenty-nineteen in a flash of bright blue.

**Author's Note:**

> Yeehaw I'm Not Sorry(TM).
> 
> Drop a line in the comments if you want, I'm also on tumbsfldkfslr [@seven-misfits](https://seven-misfits.tumblr.com/) so you can come shout at me there.


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